


one for the money, two for the show

by octothorpetopus



Series: evermore [1]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, M/M, Marriage Proposal, POV Sam Seaborn, Song: champagne problems (Taylor Swift)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octothorpetopus/pseuds/octothorpetopus
Summary: “Will you marry me?” The words left Sam’s mouth in a flood, but the hard part was over, so it seemed. The silent moment following the question of the century stretched off into infinity like the world’s biggest rubber band. And, like all rubber bands, after a moment, it came snapping back.“I’m sorry.” A beat. “I can’t.” A second beat, this one longer, and much more painful. “And I think maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore.”
Relationships: Donna Moss & Sam Seaborn, Jed Bartlet & Sam Seaborn, Josh Lyman/Sam Seaborn, Sam Seaborn & Toby Ziegler
Series: evermore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126469
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	one for the money, two for the show

Of all the things Sam liked about working in the White House, his favorite was probably the parties. Not just because they were his only opportunity to break out his tailcoat (which was not a practical purchase for any other career path, but a necessity for the White House), but because they were what cemented the idea that his work was important, important enough to warrant attendance at events with a white-tie dress code. He also liked them very simply because they were fun. As C.J. was fond of saying, “Ain’t no party like a White House party, ‘cause a White House party has complimentary champagne that costs more per bottle than my entire apartment.”

All of that being said, Sam had never been more nervous for a party in his entire life, not even the state dinner he had attended while sick with the stomach flu (at which he had very narrowly avoided vomiting on the French Prime Minister’s wife), than he was tonight. The reason seemed small, so very small, small enough that it could be slipped into Sam’s pocket and stay there unnoticed until he could find a quiet moment to produce it. It seemed unthinkable that a 2x2 inch mahogany box could hold so much of his life in it. And not just his life, his parents’ lives too, although he preferred not to think about that too much. Sam was not a superstitious man, he didn’t believe in curses or jinxes, and so he had asked his mother for the ring despite the link it held to his father and his father’s own ring, which he had carefully slipped off once or twice a week when he went to go visit the woman he had been secretly spending the last 28 years of his life with, since Sam was barely out of diapers. But then, it was just a ring, just a piece of metal. And, hell, it wasn’t like his mother was going to get much use out of it at the moment, not with the impending divorce. Both of Sam’s parents had asked him to come out to California to see them while they worked out who would get what, but he wasn’t about to go out there when he could be here, with his friends, with Josh. Josh, who was currently in his office changing into his suit and would be out in no more than five minutes to ask Sam for help with his tie. Josh and his size 10 ring finger. Sam had just gotten the ring back from being resized at the jeweler yesterday, and he hoped to God it would fit. 

“Hey, Sam.” A hand appeared on Sam’s shoulder.

“What? Nothing!” Sam yelped, jumping.

“Whoa, there,” Donna said, smiling. “You’re wound tight.”

“Can you blame me? It’s kind of a stressful night, Donna.”

“I know, my stomach is-”

“Donna.”

“Right. Yes. I am an observer.” Donna swayed back and forth, the sound of her blue silk dress swishing around, filling the empty foyer. When the president was ready, they would get in the motorcade and go, and then the whole thing would be set in motion, no turning back. “So, are you going to wait until the end of the night, or-”

“Donna!”

“Sorry! Observer!” Footsteps clacked on the marble floor and Sam froze.

“Relax, it’s just me.” Toby tugged at his sleeves as he fell in beside Sam. “You ready?”

“I regret ever telling either of you.”

“Ouch.” Donna frowned and they all fell silent.

“So, are you going to wait until the end of the night-”

“Will both of you be quiet? Please?” 

“Fine.” Sam could hear the motorcade pulling up outside. Where was Josh? And for that matter, where was the president? 

“Hey.” All three of them jumped. Josh slipped between Sam and Donna and turned to face Sam. “Can you help with my tie? I can’t get it.” He played with the edges of the white silk bow tie that hung loosely around his neck.

“Of course.” Sam could feel both Donna and Toby’s eyes on them, but ignored it. Even without the ring, tonight was going to be a pleasant night. They were celebrating the launch of a new spacecraft, the Vulcan IV, but Toby had taken on Sam’s toast-writing duties to give him a break while he prepared for the real event tonight. Sam smoothed Josh’s lapels and grinned, hoping his hands weren’t shaking as badly as they felt like they were. “There.”

“You’re the best.” Josh grinned and glanced over Sam’s shoulder. “Mr. President!”

“Josh, Sam, Toby, Donna. Shall we get this show on the road?” President Bartlet, flanked by the Secret Service, swept in.

“Of course, sir,” Sam choked out, and Donna elbowed him in the side as subtly as she could, which was not very subtly. She and Toby followed the president out to the motorcade, and Toby flashed Sam a thumbs-up behind Josh’s back as he left.

“Hey,” Josh said, smiling easily.

“Hi.” Somehow, the apprehension Sam had been feeling faded away. He allowed Josh to slide his fingers through Sam’s dark hair and press a quiet, gentle kiss to his lips.

“We should go,” Josh murmured.

“Yeah, we should.” Neither of them moved. Sam liked moments like this, when they weren’t working but they weren’t at home yet, they were in the strange purgatory of a quiet White House. There hadn’t been as many of those moments in a long time. There had been few after the shooting, and then after Sam found out about his father he had thrown himself into his work, and now, between the M.S. and the possibility of reelection, they had practically had no time alone. That was why, about three weeks ago, Sam had decided to propose. He and Josh both needed a port in this storm, and they had each other. If there was ever a time, this was it. “You go ahead,” he said, and pushed Josh gently away. “I’ll be out in two seconds.”

“Alright.” Josh squeezed his hand and then slipped out into the cool spring evening. Sam dug through his pocket, past the little box that was giving him so much anxiety, until he found his wallet. He didn’t carry much cash, and so it was fairly light, holding only his sole credit card, his White House ID and driver’s license, and a folded photograph that was beginning to wear at the edges. The photo was what he was looking for. It had been taken on a night not unlike tonight during the first year of the administration. Sam had forgotten why he had decided to bring his camera with him that night, but he had snapped photos of all of his friends, and he kept those photos scattered across his desk. This one, however, was his alone, not to be shared with anyone else. During the party, Josh had stepped out onto the portico, either drunk or burned out or some combination of the two. He had his bow tie undone and hanging around his neck and he was sitting on the steps. It was a particularly foggy night, and against the light from inside, it created a sort of halo around him. Sam had taken a picture, and then kissed him. It wasn’t their first kiss, their first kiss belonged to a very young Sam and Josh in the tunnels under the Capitol Building, but it was the moment a switch flipped inside both of them, the moment the scales began to tip away from friendship and towards the something more that had been lurking under the surface for years.

That picture of Josh had been in Sam’s wallet ever since. It was one of their only moments that had never been witnessed by another person, not in sight, not in speech, not even in photos. Sam folded the picture back up and replaced it. This was his way of going back to that night, this proposal, as much as they could. But in order to do that, he needed to go get in the car.

Donna clung to Sam’s arm as they walked inside, grinning so broadly she looked as though her face might break. She hadn’t said anything to Josh, he had to give her credit for that, but sometimes Sam wished he hadn’t told her or Toby until after it was all over. But he didn’t think he could do this alone, either. After all they had been through this year, and with everything more they would have to go through, Sam dreaded being alone. 

“Sam?” He wasn’t alone, though, and Donna’s voice made him realize he had stopped walking. “Come on.” Sam allowed her to lead him into the grand ballroom, and they marvelled up at the cathedralesque ceiling for a moment. After all this time, it wasn’t flying on Air Force One or sitting in the Oval Office that sucked the air from Sam’s lungs and stuck in his mind like a vivid dream, it was the way an ordinary hotel ballroom could belong to a different dimension, and the way a boy who didn’t even know he liked boys until he was 30 could propose to his best friend in the world and pretend maybe their lives were okay for a second.

“Sam, come on.” Josh tugged at Sam’s sleeve. “What’s with you? You’re all space-y today.”

“I’m fine.” Sam waved him off. “Tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“I’ll say.” Josh wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Guys, please-“ Toby shook his head.

“Sorry,” Josh replied without ever taking his eyes off Sam, clearly not all that sorry. “Scotch on the rocks?” he asked, and started towards the bar without waiting for a response. He didn’t need a response, he knew exactly what Sam wanted. He’d be bringing Sam scotch on the rocks for the rest of their lives.

“I’m going to go find an unmarried senator to flirt with. Good luck, alright? Come find me if you need anything.” Donna ruffled his hair gently and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Sam with Toby, who shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable.

“You want to go home?” Sam asked, lowering his voice.

“Oh, yeah. Big time. But… I wouldn’t miss your big night for the world.” Toby smiled, in his eyes an uncharacteristic gentleness. 

“Thank you.” Sam hugged him, and Toby let him. “I never had any siblings, but I had you.”

“Go away before I start crying.”

“Yep.” 

Sam found Josh at the bar, still waiting for their drinks. He gave Sam a tired smile.

“I think it would be easier to get drinks if I was a pretty girl.”   
“You’re pretty to me,” Sam replied and kissed his cheek. His heart was in his throat, but even so, he held out a hand. “How about we ditch the bar for a while and go dance?” Silently, Josh took his hand and allowed Sam to lead him out onto the dance floor. One of his hands slid to the small of Sam’s back, and the other stayed linked in Sam’s. After a few months of therapy, Sam noticed that the effect music had on Josh had lessened, but his grip on Sam’s hand still tightened, and he became visibly more focused on his breathing. 

“Are you okay?” Sam murmured.

“Yeah.” Josh nodded and let his forehead fall against Sam’s. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Tell me if you need to get some air, ‘kay?”

“Yes. Of course.” Sam was never a good dancer before he met Josh. When he and Lisa had tried dance lessons in preparation for their wedding, he had stepped on her feet, tripped over his own legs, went left when he should have gone right, and never failed to forget what he was supposed to be doing. And then he met Josh. The first time they danced together, it was to a Billy Joel record in Josh’s kitchen. It was a shitty apartment and the overhead light had gone out, so Josh opened the refrigerator and they danced in the fluorescent light it cast across the linoleum floor. And when Josh wrapped his strong arms around Sam, guiding him through the few dance steps that he knew, Sam felt like Fred Astaire. Maybe what his mother had always said about dancing was right. Maybe all it took to be any good was the right partner. All Sam wanted was to be able to live life like that one dance in the kitchen- effortlessly perfect. And that was life with Josh. Things were perfect even when they were far from perfect.

“I’m going to take a breather before the president’s toast,” Josh said, pulling Sam off the dance floor with a flourish. “Care to join me?” For a while, Sam had forgotten about his real reason for being here tonight. He nodded and tried to swallow his pounding heart. 

“Yeah. I think there’s a terrace somewhere we can take a minute.” They left the ballroom and found a set of french doors leading to a secluded balcony overlooking the Potomac. Ivy dripped over the railings, light scattered across the water below, and although it was February, a warmth settled in Sam’s stomach. “Nice night,” he said, and watched Josh peer over the railing at the river.

“It really is. I’m glad I get to see this night.”

“What?”

“Oh, right. It’s a thing Dr. Keyworth has me doing. Whenever I see or hear or feel something that makes me think, ‘Damn, I’m glad to be alive,’ he wants me to say it out loud. He says it helps internalize the feeling, or something.” Josh turned his back on the river, smirking. “I don’t always do it, though. ‘Cause if I had to say how glad I am to be alive every time I see you, I’d never stop saying it, and I think Toby would kill me himself.”

“Cute.”

“I’m adorable.”

“Yes, you are.” Sam kissed Josh’s nose, and then his lips. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

“I do. Do you know I’m proud of you?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had an easy year, but neither have you.”

“And yet, here we are.”

“Here we are.” Josh shivered. “We should probably get back in there.” He skirted around Sam towards the door.

“Wait!”  _ Now or never,  _ Sam told himself, and sucked in the deepest breath of his life. “Josh, there’s, um… shit.”

“What?” Josh was asking with the earnest and eager curiosity of someone who genuinely wanted to hear whatever Sam had to say. It was not a tone Sam was used to, and even now, it took him by surprise. The ideas he had in his head, the words he thought he should say slipped away now, and were carried away by the river. 

“I… in my life, there aren’t a lot of things I think I’ve done right. I spent years writing for people I didn’t know or like, speeches that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. And then I went to law school and I got so caught up in my own head that I didn’t realize I was doing more harm than good until it was too late. I buried myself and everything I knew about me under piles of what I thought I was supposed to be. I was supposed to be my father’s son. I was supposed to be a lot of things. Those are the things I did wrong. The things I did right? The first was letting myself fall in love with you.” As Sam spoke, Josh walked away from the doors and back towards the railing. His eyes flicked between Sam and the river every few minutes. “Everything after that, every good thing I have done, has been because of that day that you came and you dug me out from under all of my ‘supposed-to-be’. You brushed me off and took me with you to New Hampshire, and you found a way to love me despite the fact that I am not who I was supposed to be. I have never known pain like the pain I felt when I thought I might lose you, and I have never felt joy like the joy I felt when I found out that I wouldn’t. I don’t want to lose you ever again, and I can’t wait anymore because soon enough we’ll be running for reelection and this is just the only time I can do it. Okay?” Despite the blank expression on his face, Josh nodded.

“Okay. Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?”

“Oh. Right.” Sam didn’t kneel, but he found the box in his pocket and pulled it out. Josh glanced down, but didn’t say anything. “I, um… when I went to see my mom last week, I asked her for this. It’s not huge or anything, but-”

“Sam.”

“Right.” Sam opened the lid. The light through the window lit up the ring. The gold band was dotted with tiny diamonds, arranged around sapphires that were the same clear, deep blue as the evening sky over Sam’s head. “Will you marry me?” The words left Sam’s mouth in a flood, but the hard part was over, so it seemed. The silent moment following the question of the century stretched off into infinity like the world’s biggest rubber band. And, like all rubber bands, after a moment, it came snapping back.

“I’m sorry.” A beat. “I can’t.” A second beat, this one longer, and much more painful. “And I think maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore.” Sam was a forward-thinker. Every possible outcome was a factor in his decision-making process, never more than with this decision to offer up the rest of his life to Josh. Sam wished he could say this was never even an option, or never more than a whisper of a worst-case scenario, but the truth was that this had been at the forefront of his mind for a long time, long before Sam ever decided to propose. 

“Josh.” Sam couldn’t think of anything more to say than his name. He realized at once how cold it was outside, and then realized that he hadn’t noticed the cold at all until now. A raindrop splattered on the concrete between them, and then with a single crash of thunder, it began to pour. Neither Sam nor Josh moved even as rain soaked their hair, their clothes, their souls. “Why?” Sam asked at last, just as Josh said:

“I think I’m going to go.” Without waiting for a response, he opened the french doors that had led them out here and allowed them to swing shut behind him. Through the windows, Sam could see that he did not go back to the ballroom. Instead, he disappeared down the foyer steps. A few minutes later, Sam heard the revolving door at the front of the hotel whir to life, and he glanced over the railing to see a small figure with bushy hair and a bare ring finger hail a cab. And then he was gone, leaving Sam on a quiet balcony overlooking a noisy street, holding a ring, his mother’s, with nowhere to put it.  _ Ashes to ashes, diamonds to dust, _ he thought, and chuckled despite himself. Even in moments of darkness, he couldn’t seem to stop being a writer. It was like a genetic trait rather than an occupation, burrowed into every cell in his being, written into his DNA. Only a writer would be able to find prose in an evening as dark as this one, and yet, without Josh, without his friends, prose was all Sam had. Despite all his best hopes and wishes, the story he had been writing had been finished against his will. Sam slicked his wet hair out of his face, put the ring back in his pocket, leaned his elbows on the wrought iron railing, and resigned himself to a new story.

After about ten minutes, the rain stopped, and Sam hadn’t moved. He couldn’t seem to be able to move, other than to blink and breathe. When the doors opened behind him, he heard them, but couldn’t force himself to see who it was.

“Oh! Sam. I thought there wasn’t anyone out here.” A voice Sam had heard first on TV screens, and which had carried Sam’s words onto the airwaves for years since, spoke.

“Mr. President.” With substantial effort, Sam pulled himself upright and turned to face his boss, the President of the United States.

“I was just going to have a quick smoke before my wife kills me for making an MS joke during my toast-” President Bartlet stopped, his eyes searching Sam’s face like he was a jigsaw puzzle missing a piece and the president was trying to decide whether he had knocked it onto the floor by accident or if the manufacturers left it out. “Sam? Are you alright?” At first, Sam wasn’t quite sure why he was asking. He swiped his hands across his cheeks, brushing away the rain that had soaked his skin. Except it couldn’t be rain, because it had stopped raining five minutes ago. Had he been crying this entire time and only now realized it? Sam sniffled and then flushed red, embarrassed to be sniffling in front of the leader of the free world. President Bartlet didn’t look embarrassed, however. He only looked concerned.

“I asked Josh to marry me, sir.” Their relationship was not news to the president. They had disclosed on the very day that Josh asked Sam to be his boyfriend. The president had been overjoyed that they were happy together, and hadn’t expressed any of the concerns that both Sam and Josh had expected. It was a welcome surprise. His joy right now, however, was not.

“That’s wonderful!”

“Not so much, sir.” The president went quiet. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and lit one. Then, he held out the box to Sam.

“He said no?” Sam took a cigarette and grimaced while the president lit it. Smoking was his one nasty habit. Josh hated it, but he put up with it because he loved Sam. He had loved Sam, at some point. He must have. 

“He said no.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“I just… sir, do I have permission to speak freely? And perhaps a little emotionally?”

“I think I’ll allow it this once.”

“I don’t understand it, Mr. President.”

“What’s not to understand?”

“Well, it’s not like we’ve never discussed marriage. We just decided that marriage during the second year of an administration wasn’t prudent, and then… and then everything happened and we haven’t really spoken about it since.”

“Do you love Josh?” 

“Yes.”

“Does he love you?”

“Yes.” Sam didn’t even think before answering.

“Then, at the risk of sounding a little callous, remember that he doesn’t owe you marriage. You know he loves you, why does it matter?”

“I don’t know that. Not anymore. He left me.”

“Did he?”

“I watched him go.”

“Sam.” The president sighed and stared down at the river, the swirling black water glimmering with streaks of gold light. “Josh was shot six months ago. He has some pretty severe PTSD, and it’s enough of a struggle just for him to be here at this party where there’s music and people. And Leo told me what happened with your father. On top of all that, I have to admit that I may have contributed to your misery. My illness is a weight on both of your shoulders, and as much as I wish this was a burden I could bear alone, as thankful as I am for everything both of you have done for me, I fear Josh may be breaking under the stress.” Sam went silent and dragged on his cigarette.

“...he never said anything.”   
“He never does.”

“No, he really doesn’t.” In the distance, somewhere in Virginia, thunder crashed.

“Did I ever tell you…” President Bartlet hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Have I ever told you that the first time I asked Abbey to marry me, she turned me down?” Sam was so shocked he choked on his own smoke. After a moment of coughing, he shook his head.

“No, Mr. President. You never told me that.”

“It was 1964, We were a couple of months out of undergrad. I was starting at the London School of Economics in the fall, at the same time Abbey was headed to Harvard to start medical school. We weren’t going to see each other again until Christmas. And right before she left, I bought a ring and I asked her to marry me. Do you know what she did?”

“What?”

“She laughed in my face. After she was done laughing at me, she told me what was so funny. She said, ‘Jed, I love you, and I know you love me and you really do want to marry me, but right now, you’re asking me to marry you because you’re moving to a new country in the fall and you’re terrified it’ll all go wrong and you won’t have anything to come back to. But the thing is, it won’t all go wrong, and if it does, you’ll deal with it, and I’ll be right here when you come home. So go finish packing, put away the ring, go to London, study economics, live on your own and then come back at Christmas and tell me all about it. And then, once you’ve discovered that life on your own isn’t impossible, ask me again.’”

“So what did you do?”

“Just what she said. I went to London, and I came home at Christmas, and I asked her to marry me again. And that time, she said yes.”

“No offense, Mr. President, but what exactly is the point of you telling me all of this?”

“My point is that the first time I asked Abbey to marry her, it wasn’t because I loved her and I was ready to get married. I did love her, just as much as I do now, but that wasn’t why. I asked her to marry me because my life was about to be completely destabilized, and I wanted to know there would be one thing at home that I could trust, that I could hold onto if everything else fell apart.”

“And you think that’s what I’m doing with Josh?”

“If you’ll forgive my honesty, yes. Your lives have been completely unsettled, and you’re looking for a lifeboat. You have to remember, though, what my wife forced me to remember long before she was ever my wife: Josh isn’t your lifeboat any more than you’re his. No one person can be anyone else’s savior while also being their own. You’re trying to save both Josh and yourself, and you can’t. You can’t save a drowning man if you can’t keep your own head above water.”

“So what do I do? Do I save Josh or do I save myself?”

“Both.”

“But you just said-“

“I know what I said. You can’t save both of you at the same time, so don’t try to. Time isn’t in short supply, not now, not while you’re 32. Take the time to understand why you’re asking Josh to marry you. If it’s for entirely selfish reasons, or entirely to try to save him, then wait. Try to patch yourself up, and rely on the knowledge Josh is trying to do the same. However, if you’re asking him to marry you because you can see the shore and you think you might not be drowning anymore, then proceed. Let the waves carry you back to dry land and marry the man you love.” Sam let his cigarette fall to the ground and crushed it between his heel and the damp concrete.

“So you’re saying that I should only go through with marrying Josh if I can see the end of all this? If I can see the way all this pain and anger ends? And if I can’t… then I let him go?”

“What do I know, Sam? I met my wife when I was 22 and never looked back. I didn’t give myself a moment for reflection, and for me, it all worked out. You have a moment right now to decide. To reflect. But, Sam?”

“Yes, Mr. President?”

“You and Josh… there’s never been a doubt in my mind that you are perfectly and uniquely suited for one another. You’re allowed to be sad that he’s going through something and you’re allowed to be upset that he left you. His pain doesn’t preclude him from breaking your heart.”

“How can I be upset, though? I did spring this on him. And with everything going on between my dad and your MS and what happened at Roslyn, a rejected proposal…? Compared to everything else, it just seems like-”

“-champagne problems?” the president interrupted.

“Exactly.”

“It’s not a champagne problem just because it’s small in the grand scheme of things. You asked your boyfriend to marry you and he turned you down, and just because you have to empathize with his reasons doesn’t mean you don’t get to be sad. A whiskey tumbler might seem unimportant beside a crystal chandelier, but they both shatter when dropped, and you can cut yourself just as easily on a broken glass as on a broken chandelier. Do you get what I’m saying?”   
“I think so, sir.”

“Good.” The president put out his cigarette. “I should get back inside. Are you going to be okay?”

“I think… I believe I will, sir. In a moment. After I have a moment to think.” With a nod and what may have been a wink, the president went back inside, and Sam was once again alone. Not frozen any longer, he found his wallet in his pocket and pulled out the picture of Josh that sat in it. The Josh in the photo was evergreen, always smiling that same tired, satisfied smile that reminded Sam of late mornings spent lying in bed, legs tangled under the sheets, laughing at something that wasn’t all that funny. The Josh in the photo wasn’t the Josh of the real world, though. Maybe Sam had forgotten that momentarily, in his excitement. Forgetfulness aside, there was only ever one person Sam wanted to talk to when he was hurting, and even though Josh had been the one to hurt him, Sam needed to talk to the man in the photo, the real version of him. 

Donna’s eyes widened into huge blue marbles when she saw Sam re-enter the ballroom. With as much subtlety as she could muster, which wasn’t very much, she hurried to him, snagging Toby by the elbow and dragging him away from a conversation as she went.

“Well?” Toby took in Sam’s soaked suit and tired eyes and grimaced.

“I need to go,” Sam said, lowering his voice. “Just for a while. I don’t know if I’ll be back, but I-”

“Go.” Toby nodded and pushed him back towards the door. Sam glanced back at his friends once before leaving. They both looked how he felt—like the victim of a gut-punch. Funny how sad they were, when neither of them was the one who had been proposed to and neither of them had been turned down. It was sweet how much they cared, sickeningly so, but they were also just two more people that Sam would let down if he couldn’t find Josh, if he couldn’t manage to get back the only real thing he had ever known. 

Taking the foyer steps two at a time, Sam tried to think how he could find Josh. He could try calling, but the likelihood of Josh picking up was slim to none. He wouldn’t have gone home, he would go somewhere Sam wouldn’t go. Sam’s wet shoes slipped on the marble landing between flights, and in that split second before falling flat on his back, Sam had a moment of clairvoyance. He knew where Josh would be right now. It would be the one place Sam wouldn’t think to look, the one place Sam would never go. Except right now, because that was where Josh was. Sam was sure of it. He got back to his feet and raced out of the hotel. There was a metro station on the corner, and just as Sam began to descend the concrete steps, rain began to splatter on the pavement over his head.

The orange line train was nearly empty during Sam’s entire ride. He wasn’t sure whether he preferred that to the usual crowds, though. Silence left him alone with his own head, which was never how he liked to be. When Sam was left alone with his thoughts, they wrote stories of their own, often heartbreaking ones. He could always trust his mind during the workday, when he could keep himself busy with meetings and call sheets and speeches, but during the early mornings and the late nights, when the world went quiet, he couldn’t quite stop from spiraling down into the depths of his own psyche. But then Josh would come and find him, to walk him to the morning meeting or just out to his car, and he pulled Sam out of his own head. They did that for each other. They always had. Sam wasn’t looking for someone to save him from drowning, like the president said. He had already drowned and clawed his way back to shore. What he needed now wasn’t a lifeboat, it was a tether, to hold him to the ground in case the tide came in. And, at the same time, this ring was a life raft, the one thing he could think to throw to Josh, who had been swept away. He wouldn’t let Josh drown. Not if he could help it.

It hadn’t stopped raining by the time he reached his stop, and for a brief moment, Sam regretted not bringing his jacket, but then a cab whizzed towards him and he hailed it. As raindrops pounded the cab’s roof, he thought about what he would say when he arrived. His first speech had been all empty words, and it had gone to waste. This speech couldn’t be empty and it wouldn’t go to waste even if Sam left alone tonight. He had one last chance to get through to Josh, and although this was the last place he wanted to be tonight, this was where he would have to end this. This was always where it would end, one way or another.

The Newseum in Rosslyn, Virginia was dark when Sam’s cab pulled up to the curb. It looked different than the last time he had been here, with people and lights and bullets raining from above. Even in a different light, he could see the square of concrete where he had pushed C.J. behind a police car. It had been a miracle that Sam hadn’t taken that bullet himself, but he could still hear it whizzing past his head, only a hair’s breadth from his own certain death. He could see the steps he had sprinted up, towards the sound of Toby’s hoarse screaming. He could see Josh sitting on the ground, his back against the wall, looking up at the big, black velvet sky.

Except he really could see Josh sitting on the ground, looking up even as his face was pelted with rain.

Sam’s footsteps splashed through puddles as he walked towards Josh, trying to decide what to say. One step.  _ Hi, Josh.  _ Two steps.  _ Wait, that’s dumb.  _ Three steps.  _ How are you?  _ Four steps.  _ That’s also dumb.  _ He gave up on trying to write it all out in his head. Maybe the water had seeped into his brain. One hand slipped into his pocket and felt around for the box, which would be irreversibly warped from water damage. It was still there, though, and so was the ring. Sam reached the base of the steps and paused. Josh couldn’t hear him coming over the claps of thunder, and Sam didn’t know how to start this conversation. He cleared his throat, expecting Josh to flinch, but he didn’t.

“Hi.” Josh’s voice was weak, but clear. 

“Hi.” Sam’s entire body shook from cold and nerves as he climbed the stairs and turned to look down at Josh. If they weren’t here, if they were anywhere else, he might look relaxed. Josh’s hands held his overcoat bundled around his chest, and his legs stretched out in front of him. He looked nearly nonchalant, except that his eyes and nose were red and he couldn’t seem to stop shivering. 

“You want to sit?” The ground was cold and wet, but Sam sat down beside Josh anyways, leaving just a few inches of space between them where he would usually leave none at all. Thunder crashed overhead, and neither of them said a word for a few minutes. “How did you find me?” Josh asked after a moment, sniffling, and didn’t look at Sam. He hadn’t looked at Sam once.

“I don’t really know. I was thinking about where you might go, and then it occurred to me—you would go to the one place I would never go. Not unless I was following you.”

“Poetic,” Josh murmured. A shudder tore through Sam, and Josh looked over at him as if realizing he was really there for the first time. “You’re cold,” he said, and began to slip off his wet coat.

“No, Josh, I’m fine-”

“You’re not. Take it.” Sam opened his mouth to protest, but allowed Josh to wrap the coat around his shoulders.

“Thanks.” They were skirting around each other now, like dancers, perhaps. Or gladiators. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“For springing this all on you.”

“Don’t be.”

“No, really. I should have realized the last thing you need right now is another surprise.”

“I didn’t say no because I didn’t like being surprised, Sam.” Josh let out a breathless laugh. “I liked the surprise. I liked your speech. I liked the ring.”

“Then why?” Sam knew he sounded too eager, but he had spent his life craving answers to every question about the world, his family, himself. That didn’t just go away when he finally got the answers and he didn’t like them.

“I just can’t. I don’t know why.”

“Can we talk through it, then? I just… I need to understand.”

“We can try.”

“Okay.” Sam thought for a moment. “We’ve talked for a long time about getting married. We decided to put it off until at least the third year. At what point did you decide you didn’t want to marry me?”

“I never did.”

“What?”

“There was never a moment where I made a decision to say no if you asked. I mean, I fully did not expect you to ask, but there was never a moment when I decided to say no. Not until you were halfway through the question.”

“I don’t understand.” It didn’t make any sense to Sam. How could Josh have gone this long thinking he would marry Sam only to decide he wouldn’t the moment Sam asked? How did that make any sense? A piece of the puzzle was missing, somewhere. Josh sighed and ran a hand through his soaking wet hair.

“I always thought I’d say yes when you asked me to marry you. I really did. I dreamed about the moment you would ask. But then you said… you said you’ve never been more hurt than when you thought you might lose me, and you’ve never been happier than when you found out you wouldn’t. You don’t know you won’t lose me, and I can’t **—** I won’t **—** risk letting you feel that pain again. And I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with that answer until you were already asking me. It hurts me more than you know, but I’d rather you feel the temporary pain of losing me now than the permanent kind that will come if I let myself marry you and then you lose me.”

“And you don’t think this hurts?”

“I know it does, but-”   
“Having you with me is the only thing keeping my head above water these last few months, Josh, and I’d like to think I’ve done the same for you. At least a little.”

“You have.” Josh’s voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Okay, then… in this crazy fucking world that seems to want nothing more than to beat us down, I want us to be able to lean on each other. When the world rejects us, I want us to be able to come home to one another. We’re living at the epicenter of an earthquake, Josh, and we can’t escape it. The best we can do is look for a little stable ground.”

“Stable ground.” Josh scoffed. “What stable ground? Stability is a myth, Sam, made up by the elderly to make younger generations feel worse about themselves.”

“Josh-”

“I mean it. Marriage doesn’t change anything. It’s a piece of paper and a ceremony that costs too much money. You should know just as well as I do that marriage doesn’t keep people from dying and it doesn’t keep them from falling out of love.”

“So? The same thing happens whether we’re married or not. I’m not planning on falling out of love with you anytime soon, and I’m not planning on dying either, so why? Why not?”

“I can’t do it. I just… I can’t. There’s too much at stake. So we get married and in four years or eight, we have a couple of kids, and then what? And then I die, I have a heart attack or I get cancer, ‘cause cancer’s hereditary, isn’t it; or you fall in love with someone else and you break my heart just like your dad broke yours… I can’t think about what I would do if we woke up one morning and you didn’t love me anymore, so it’s better if we just decide right here, right now, that you won’t be in love with me anymore, and that way we don’t let each other down. You can go and find another guy, and he’ll patch up the parts of you I ruined tonight, and he won’t let you down, and even though your life with him still won’t be perfect, you won’t have to figure out that you don’t know everything I am and will be. I’m not stable ground, Sam, and I’m not ever going to be, so it’s better this way. Okay?”

“Not okay. You really…” A laugh bubbled up and out of Sam’s mouth before he could stop it. “You really think I could ever fall in love with someone else? Josh, whether you dump me now or you marry me later, I’ll never love again. There’s no one else who’ll take all my little quirks in stride. And you’re wrong. I do know you.” Sam held out his hands, but Josh didn’t move, so they simply dropped to his sides. “I know you.  _ Every _ you. I know the Josh who can’t control his tongue and says things he doesn’t mean to. I know the Josh who has never done anything for selfish reasons in his entire life. I know the Josh who loves me and has since 1991, and I know the Josh who wouldn’t have said a word about it if I hadn’t offered to take care of you after your wisdom teeth surgery back when we were still just kids on the campaign trail. I know you, Josh, and I have always known you.” Josh turned his head to look at Sam. Sam wiped away the blend of tears and rain that streamed down Josh’s face, allowing his own tears to fall freely. “I can’t… I can’t promise that we’ll be safe from cancer and house fires and crazy men with guns. I can promise you that I am not my father, and that you are the love of my life and the  _ only  _ love of my life. And I can promise that if the world is knocked unsteady again, you and I can lean on each other for support.” Josh sighed and pressed his lips together in a tired smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I can’t not be.”

“Too bad. You have no reason to be.”

“Do you know why I came here?” Sam was beyond words right now. All the words had been sucked out of him. He just shook his head.

“I’ve only really ever been scared of three things in my life. I was scared of the dark until I was sixteen. I was—well, I am—scared of this place. And it wasn’t until tonight that I realized how scared of you I was. Of losing you. I dealt with my fear of the dark a long time ago, when my high school friends and I went camping and stayed up all night in the woods. ‘Exposure therapy’ is what Dr. Keyworth calls it. We had been talking about visiting this place for awhile, but I couldn’t seem to do it. And then tonight, I couldn’t bring myself to face you. So I figured I’d try and face this place. Overcompensation, maybe.”

“And?” Sam slipped his hand into Josh’s and squeezed. “How are you?”

“Better than I expected. No flashbacks.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“And I’m glad you’re here with me.” Josh let his head fall against Sam’s shoulder. Sam kissed his forehead. 

“So am I. And, speaking of being with you… are we…?” He trailed off, waiting for Josh to fill in the blanks. What he’d forgotten is that despite Josh’s vulnerability at this moment, he was still Josh.   
“Are we what?” Josh asked and mocked confusion.

“You know.”

“Sam, if you have something to ask me, then ask-” Sam sighed and rolled onto his knees in front of Josh, who folded his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, waiting with the expectant eagerness of a child on Christmas morning. Sam hadn’t gotten down on one knee the first time, but he figured he had better do it the second, considering that this would be the 3rd and final time he would ever ask this question. Then he remembered that he needed the ring, and let out a soft laugh as he searched his pockets for the box. Josh laughed too, really smiling now. Sam’s breathing was shaky, but the good kind of shaky, the kind that accompanied first kisses and final bows. 

“Josh Lyman,” he said, slicking his hair out of his face, ignoring the torrential downpour around them. He nearly had to shout to be heard over the storm. “Will you marry me?” The words left his lips for the second time that night. 

“Yes.” The only thing he had ever wanted to hear. Josh didn’t raise his voice, but Sam could still hear it loud and clear.

“Yeah?” he replied. He wasn’t taking any chances this time.

“Yes,” Josh repeated, and yanked Sam’s tie so that Sam fell against him in a warm, rain-soaked kiss. They both fumbled blindly with the ring box for a moment, never once breaking apart, until Sam finally managed to slide the gold band onto Josh’s finger. Josh took Sam’s face in his hands, the cold metal sliding against warm skin. “You know what we just did?”

“What’s that?” Sam’s cheeks hurt from smiling, but he couldn’t stop.

“We just added a really good memory to a really bad one. Now, whenever I think about this place, I will remember both the worst and best nights of my life.” Sam placed his hands on top of Josh’s and laced their fingers together. 

“You want to go back to the party and drink as much champagne as we possibly can?” he asked.

“We’re soaking wet.”

“Yeah. And?” Josh grinned.

“Let’s do it.” Sam pushed himself to his feet and offered Josh a hand up. Once Josh was on his feet, he didn’t drop Sam’s hand. They walked down the steps and through the puddles, leaning against each other all the while. Soaking wet as they were, Sam had the feeling that neither one of them was drowning anymore. The rain slowed first to a sprinkle and then to nothing at all. 

Back at the party, through the ballroom windows, Sam could see the river’s crashing waters still and return to their usual flow. The waves had carried them back to shore, and the tide had gone out at last, leaving them both on dry land. There was a tether holding them here, made of gold and sapphires and promises that would never be broken. Sam would not be his father’s son, and if Josh was his, the tide could not drag either of them back out to sea. They would not be each other’s saviors, either. They didn’t need to be. Josh had saved himself tonight, and so had Sam. 

Now, with an empty bottle of Dom Perignon left behind, on a rainy evening in early spring, Sam and Josh danced once more. Little had changed in the great big world, but where they stood was different. They stood on new ground, ground that they had built themselves, ground that wouldn’t shift or crack or crumble under stress. Solid ground. 


End file.
